Hospital Room, New Mexico
Thor stirred on the hospital bed, his muscles aching and his mind clouded with confusion. The sterile scent of antiseptics filled the room, unfamiliar and unpleasant. His eyes fluttered open, and the blinding overhead lights greeted him.
Strangers hovered over him—figures in white coats and blue scrubs, murmuring to each other in low voices. One of them was holding a syringe, its needle glinting under the fluorescent light.
Thor's body tensed. His instincts, honed over centuries of battle, screamed danger. He didn't recognize these people, and his last memories burned vivid in his mind: Frost Giants invading Asgard, his father stripping him of his powers, and the crushing weight of exile on this strange world.
The nurse moved closer, intending to inject him, but Thor acted on pure reflex. With a powerful shove, he sent the man flying across the room, crashing into the medical equipment. The machines beeped in protest, scattering tools and papers across the floor.
"Get back!" Thor roared, his deep voice filling the small room.
A doctor tried to approach cautiously, palms raised. "Sir, please—you've been hurt. We're trying to help you."
Thor's eyes narrowed, his breathing heavy with distrust. "You will not trick me with lies!"
Another nurse rushed in, hoping to restrain him, but Thor turned with lightning speed, gripping the man by the arm and hurling him into a nearby cart. The nurse yelped as he tumbled to the ground.
More personnel scrambled in to contain the situation, but Thor swung wildly, knocking them back with sheer force. Chairs and medical trays clattered to the floor, adding to the chaos. His mind whirled in frustration and anger. Everything that had defined his life—his home, his power, his hammer—had been ripped away from him.
Now, these mortals dared to restrain the mighty Thor?
With a growl of defiance, he pushed two more doctors against the wall, panting with the exertion. They rushed him again, this time with better coordination, managing to pin his arms and press him against the door.
Thor struggled fiercely, teeth clenched. "You cannot defeat the mighty Thor!" he bellowed, his voice a storm of rage and pride. His muscles bulged against their grip, but their sheer numbers held him down.
Then, without warning, one of the doctors raised a tranquilizer gun and fired. The dart embedded itself into Thor's shoulder with a soft hiss.
His movements slowed almost immediately, his strength ebbing away like the tide. He tried to shake off the creeping lethargy, but his limbs felt heavy, and the room began to tilt around him.
"No... not like this..." Thor muttered, his voice fading, defiant to the last.
He slumped against the door, his breathing slowing as the sedative took hold. The medical staff cautiously released their grip, watching as the god-turned-mortal finally went limp.
Thor's head drooped, and his eyes fluttered shut, the mighty Asgardian warrior succumbing to the unfamiliar frailty of the human body.
The last thought that flickered through his mind before darkness took him was a desperate, lingering question: Where is my hammer?
---
SHIELD Lab, New Mexico
James shuffled through the SHIELD compound, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the slick floors as he followed Coulson down the labyrinth of corridors. The fluorescent lights above cast a clinical glow over everything, but it was the hum of technology—the whir of machines, distant voices murmuring over comms—that really gave the place its pulse.
"You know," James muttered, glancing around at the futuristic equipment, "I always thought government labs would be, I don't know, cooler. Like hoverboards and secret robots. This just looks like a high school science fair with better funding."
Coulson smirked without looking back. "Don't let the decor fool you. It gets weirder."
"Yeah, because weird has been my life lately," James sighed under his breath.
Caverns filled with glowing carvings. Statues of ancient beings. And now... this.
---
The Hammer
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the glow of monitors and the white-hot spotlights trained on the object in the center—a hammer embedded in the ground, resting as if it had fallen from the sky. Its head was engraved with runes that pulsed softly, almost like they were breathing.
"Meet the latest headache we've been trying to figure out," Coulson said, stepping aside so James could get a better look. "We found it after a freak storm hit this area. No one's been able to move it."
James took a slow step forward, feeling an odd tension coil in his chest. The hammer radiated a subtle energy—nothing overwhelming, just present, like a heartbeat he couldn't ignore.
He crossed his arms, studying it carefully. "So, what is it? Alien tech?"
Coulson gave a knowing smile. "You're not wrong. Before we got here, some locals decided it was King Arthur time—cars, trucks, tractors—you name it. None of them even made it twitch."
"No one could move it? Not even a budge?"
"Not a chance," Coulson said lightly. "We've had some of SHIELD's strongest take a shot. Didn't even scratch the surface." Then, with a pointed look, he added, "Figured you might be curious, too. You know... Shazam curious."
James stopped, his expression tightening with frustration—and a flicker of nervousness.
"Yeah, no thanks," he muttered, folding his arms. "I already had this conversation with Fury. The answer's still the same—Shazam isn't clocking in today. You've got James Carter, regular guy. No lightning, no fancy powers. Deal with it."
Coulson gave an easy nod, as if he had expected that response. "Fair enough. But for what it's worth, I think James Carter might be exactly who we need right now."
James huffed, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "You mean 'cause I'm really good at looking confused?"
Coulson smiled—a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "That. And maybe because you might find something we overlooked." He gestured toward the hammer. "Come on. Let's see if you notice anything the science guys didn't."
---
They approached a group of scientists stationed around the containment field. The monitors surrounding them displayed energy readouts and cosmic graphs that looked like something out of a sci-fi novel. James's gaze drifted toward a set of open files on a nearby table. The diagrams inside called to him, like a puzzle begging to be solved.
Without thinking, he grabbed a folder and flipped through the pages.
"You know you don't have to read that," Coulson said from over his shoulder. "I think it's in a language specifically designed to hurt my brain."
James didn't answer right away. His eyes locked on a chart tracking bursts of cosmic energy. Something clicked—like a word on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach.
"This... isn't random." James ran a finger along a line of spikes on the graph. "These bursts—solar flares, meteor showers—they line up with the readings you've been tracking." He glanced at Coulson. "This thing isn't just a weird paperweight. It's connected to something out there."
Coulson leaned in, his curiosity deepening. "Connected how?"
"It's acting like..." James trailed off, searching for the right words. "A beacon. Like it's pinging energy across space, trying to reach something—or someone."
Coulson's gaze sharpened. "And what do you think it's calling?"
"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" James muttered. "But if we don't figure it out soon, whatever—or whoever—it's calling might show up uninvited."
---
A New Lead
Before they could dig deeper, a young technician jogged over with a tablet in hand. "Agent Coulson, we just got new intel."
Coulson accepted the tablet, scrolling through the data. His brow furrowed. "Jane Foster... She's a physicist specializing in astrophysics and cosmic energy patterns. Her team's been tracking disturbances like the ones tied to this thing." He glanced at James, the gears turning in his mind. "She might have answers we don't."
James stepped closer, skimming the tablet's notes. "If she's got data on these spikes, we need her. She's already ahead of the curve."
Coulson nodded. "Agreed. Time to make contact with her team." He turned to the technician. "Get things prepared. If we're right, this might be bigger than we thought."
The technician hurried off, leaving Coulson and James standing by the containment field.
James ran a hand through his hair, the weight of everything pressing down on him. First, the strange cave that gave him these powers. Now, a hammer that was apparently calling things from space. Every step forward made it harder to walk away.
Coulson studied James for a moment, then gave him a small, knowing smile. "You know, it's funny. Some people might think it's just a coincidence that you ended up here, of all places."
James let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah? I've stopped believing in coincidences."
Coulson glanced toward the hammer. Its runes still glowed faintly, pulsing like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. "Think you'll ever give it a try? You know, see if it likes you?"
James shook his head, trying to cover his nerves with a smile. "One existential crisis at a time, Mr. Coulson."
Coulson chuckled softly. "Fair enough."
They both stood in silence for a moment, staring at the hammer like two people standing at the edge of something enormous. The energy in the room buzzed with unanswered questions—and the uneasy sense that whatever the hammer was waiting for... it was coming.